Eros Descending: Book 3 of Tales of the Velvet Comet by Mike Resnick Page A

long,” said Fiona. “We have some truly remarkable projects in the works,” she added enthusiastically.
    Constantine waited for her to sit down, and then sought out a chair for himself.
    “Well, are you acquainting yourself with Entertainment and Leisure?” asked Fiona.
    He nodded. “You'll get my first set of recommendations sometime tomorrow.”
    “What's your analysis of the division's general health?”
    He shrugged. “It's not as good as I'd like, and not as bad as I feared. There are five executives I want to release, and two more I think we should promote. And Rimwork—our video network out on the Rim—is probably beyond salvage.”
    “You're sure?” she asked.
    “Well, given our financial resources I suppose nothing is ever really beyond salvage. But I don't think saving it is worth the money and effort it would take.”
    “I'll look forward to seeing your report.”
    “The figures are being prepared right now. Oh, and thank you for the pay raise.”
    “Additional responsibilities require additional compensation,” she replied. She smiled wryly. “By the same token, I think I agreed a little too quickly to my own salary and stock options. There's more to this job than even I suspected.” She paused. “In fact, I'm afraid I can only give you about twenty minutes of my time. I've still got to meet with Accounting before I go to that banquet tonight.”
    “Then I'll get right to the point. Did you hear Tom Gold's sermon last night?”
    “Curious, wasn't it?” acknowledged Fiona.
    “Very,” said Constantine. “That's why I requested this meeting with you.” He paused, frowning. “You know, if he'd hit us with everything he had, I don't think I'd be half as disturbed as I am now.”
    “How disturbed are you now?” she inquired.
    “Very,” he admitted. “Could we possibly be wrong about what was lifted from the Delvania computer?”
    “I've already had Security check it out,” replied Fiona. “And the answer is no, we were not wrong. Gold possesses everything we thought he possessed.”
    Constantine uttered a frustrated sigh. “Then I wish I knew what the hell he has in mind. I spent four hours watching that footage, and it's dynamite. We put those aliens through some pretty strange training sessions.” He shook his head. “So why would he show his audience a pair of contracts that are so technical that nine-tenths of them won't understand what they're seeing, and then not show the training tapes? It just doesn't make any sense! I mean, hell, if he'd run just a single shot of some big hulking guy trussing one of the faeries to a bed during a bondage session, we'd probably have fifty thousand people picketing the building right now.”
    “You've been studying his file for the past week,” said Fiona. “What do you think his reason was?”
    “I don't know,” admitted Constantine. “At first I thought he backed off because the tapes were pornographic, but that's not a good enough answer. After all, it's pretty easy to edit them. You can cut out the pornography and still have some pretty shocking footage left.”
    “Have you any other explanation?”
    He shook his head. “None. I was rather hoping that you might have some suggestions.”
    “I do,” she said, reaching for an engraved platinum box, pulling out an imported Altairian cigarette, and lighting it up. “I think our friend Doctor Gold has made a tactical blunder.”
    “How?” asked Constantine.
    “I think we're being blackmailed—in a very subtle way, to be sure. Since Gold considers himself a good Christian, and a good Christian would never approach us directly and offer not to show the training footage if we'll agree to make such-and-such a concession, I suspect he's trying to make us so nervous waiting for the other shoe to drop that we approach him with an offer.”
    Constantine considered her statement thoughtfully for a moment, then shook his head. “I don't think so.”
    “Oh? Why not?”
    “Because